Toes In The Sand
by RchHghr
Summary: When you need a break you head to the beach. Right? Sometimes you don't even get that. Sometimes work is a round the clock job. Even when you want to be alone, sometimes its nice for someone to go against those wishes. Stephanie/Ranger
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own anything. Everything is owned by its rightful owners. Enjoy!

Keys, beach bag, bikini and shorts, I grab my shades and head out the door—and bump right into Ranger. Dressed in black, as always, even in this heat, he stands firm. I have to take a step back.

"Can I help you?" Right now I am not in the mood to be around anyone. I just want to drive far away, lay on a beach and drink something cold with lots, and lots of ice.

His eyes go past me to the couch where my "Off" cellphone lays forgotten, and unwanted. I don't want to talk to anyone. After the last few days I need a weekend to myself.

"You're forgetting your phone," he says seriously. He walks past me, picks it up, presses the power button and holds it out to me. We lock eyes. I don't accept the phone.

His eyes go to my shoulder. It's still wrapped in a bandage. The bikini top doesn't hide anything.

"I'm not forgetting it. I'm just not taking it. I need to be alone for the weekend which means I don't want my phone."

"Where are you going?" He questions.

"If you must know, I am driving up to Old Saybrook Connecticut to lay on the beach."

He holds up the phone again. "You just checked yourself out of the hospital prematurely, do you think you should be laying out in the sun with an injury that needs to still be monitored?"

"Yes." I don't even hesitate. I walk past him, but he grabs my hand and pulls me back. He sticks the phone in it and closes my fingers around it. "Have a great vacation."

I drop the phone in my bag. I sigh and square my shoulders. My hair is already sticking to my back. It is hot today, and the air conditioning in here hasn't worked since a lightning bolt fried the transmitter outside last week. Everything but the AC, and its summer. Go figure.

Rex has been at my mother's house for a few days now. He's on a vacation all of his own.

"What are you doing this weekend?"

He gives a shake of his head.

"Okay, just what I thought." I walk past him, but he grabs my hand again. We lock eyes. Is this even a good idea? I don't think so, but right now I am too pissed off to think.

"I'm driving," he says.

"No, this is my trip," I snap, "I am driving, and I am taking my car. Its brand new, and has satellite radio."

"I'm driving, YOUR car," he says, and that is that. I guess. Why argue? I am not going to win.

"You better get your swimsuit."

His eyes linger on mine. He shakes his head again.

My phone beeps a text message. I ignore it. I have no one to say goodbye to so I lock the door. I hand him my key and we go downstairs.

The car has AC, but the breeze is better. I rest my arm on the windowsill and lean back. My shoulder is killing me. I hope it's not written all over my face.

We drive and he talks on his head piece. Work. Why did he even agree to go? We pull up to Rangeman and he gets out and disappears upstairs. A few minutes later he comes back with a bag, and he is dressed in shorts and a rib back; both black. This is a different side to him that I haven't seen before.

He hands me a water bottle and two pills. I take them and drink the whole bottle. "Happy?" I question sarcastically.

"Quite," he says.

My phone beeps a few times. Multiple texts, which go ignored. I don't want to see them. I don't have anything else to say. If I see his face right now I will punch him in it. I will get arrested for assaulting a police officer.

Through the satellite radio I find a rock station with my high school graduation song. It was so long ago. I don't know where the time has gone. If most of my high school classmates could see me now.

Ranger puts the address into the GPS and the music returns. I see a hint of a smirk cross his face, and then disappear just as quickly.

"What was that?" I question.

His eyes don't go to me.

"You were just thinking. Tell me."

"I was wondering how long this car is going to last."

I swat him on his arm. "You're driving, you tell me. You destroy _this_ car and you will be getting me a new one."

"Don't I always?" he questions. His headpiece talks into his ear and he is in his zone giving commands and keeping order.

I daze out of it. Its hot, and I am starting to stick to my seat. I unbelt my knee brace and take it off. My leg is very sweaty. My knee isn't swollen anymore. It still hurts, and is very bruised.

I search my bag for the tiger balm I got from Connie and put some on. The smell instantly fills the car. It's refreshing, but after a while it starts to get annoying and give me a headache.

Ranger holds his hand out for the container. I hand it to him and he sniffs it. He takes a little and puts it on the back of his neck before handing it back.

I put it away and pin my hair back into a ponytail. I lay my head on the windowsill and shut my eyes. I don't think I would've even made it to the beach if I was driving to the beach. The pain is even too strong for the pills to cover up. I won't say anything to him because then I'll be stuck in a hospital bed…

Handcuffed to a hospital bed.

He talks and drives. The GPS talks every now and then. We are still a way away. I want to sleep, but if that is a sign of weakness I don't want to wake up in that hospital bed.

My phone beeps in my bag. I have a notification from Facebook. It bings a text message, and then my ringer goes off. I toss my bag into the backseat. I get a smirk out of that. He isn't talking anymore.

"Sit back," he says. I do, and he rolls up the window and turns on the AC. He better have money for gas because the AC will drain the car.

"Sleep," he says, "we're still going north, not south."

"Reading my mind again?"

"The look on your face."

"What is that look?" I ask snippily.

"The look of someone whose had enough."

"If I had enough I'd be in this car by myself."

"Then why aren't you?"

I shrug as best as I could. I still haven't moved. I still haven't opened my eyes. I say the most honest thing on my mind.

"Spite."


	2. Chapter 2

Hey Everyone! I want to say Thank You! To everyone who has checked out chapter one. I really appreciate all the reviews and interest. A few asked when I update, and for that its whenever possible. I will try to do it in a timely manner. Once again, I hope you enjoy, and I appreciate reviews, comments and suggestions.

Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Still remains the same.

!

Chapter 2

"You cannot tell me that because I will take full advantage," he says and its left at that. I know he will.

I listen to the next song and suddenly my sunglasses are taken off my face, and put onto his.

"Thought you were asleep," he says. He still keeps them on his face.

"I'm trying," I say.

He shakes his head. He pays the toll. My phone beeps. Low battery. Then it 'dings' itself off.

I feel gross. I'm sweaty. I need to change the bandage on my shoulder. Being shot sucks. It's the worst feeling in the….yeah, it's the worst feeling in the world

It isn't the first time, and it won't be the last. At least I had my gun.

My hand sneaks around his arm and intertwines with his. While my hand is sweaty and sticky his is warm and dry. He pulls my hand to his mouth and kisses it. He rests our hands between us.

"There's another tow and then we'll stop off somewhere."

"Gotta pee already?" he questions.

"Yes, and I know you want to eat just as much as I do."

Sure do. Haven't eaten much in two days. I'm starving, but at the same time I feel sick to my stomach.

I'm sticking to my seat so I shift and sit up. I rest my head against the headrest and shut my eyes tight. My knee is killing me. I don't think skin is going to continue to grow on it if I keep skinning it raw, or falling on it.

I don't know how Lula does it. Maybe it's all her cushion. I need a little cushion to land on. Maybe then, I won't feel like a 'granny' getting up the next day.

The moment I got shot Lula lost it. Ive never seen her get so mad before. I've never seen her attack so fast before. She laid the man down flat. Micah Freedmon, FTA for murder, attempted murder and robbery, was in fact the cover of a horrible man, Barom Adamski, a Trenton Police Officer. All the charges really belonged to Adamski. Freedmon shot me, but that's not the only charge he will face. Both men are behind bars. I can put head to pillow knowing that I was the only one who saw through this.

But it doesn't end the there. It doesn't even begin there. I don't even want to think about it right now. I don't want to think about them and the mangled body I saw hanging from an emergency exit.

A bright reflection wakes me up. I must've dozed. The reflection comes off a large building with way too many windows. My eyes go to him. He's still fresh like a morning shower.

I reach for my bag in the back seat and it his eyes go to me for a second. I pull out a shirt, but he halts me.

"Don't put that on yet. It's going to be saturated. I'll change your bandage and then you can put on your shirt."

"I can change it. The nurse showed me all I have to do. I have everything I need. I just need a mirror."

"I should make myself more clear, I want to do it, so therefore I will."

"Worried I'm not going to do something right?"

"No."

"Then you have nothing to worry about." I search my bag for the knee brace, think better and look on the floor. I pick it up and put it back on.

We pull up to the rest stop. He takes my bag and goes through it.

"Don't you want to find a bathroom? Its broad daylight."

"No one is around. I'd rather do it here."

He pulls down the strap on my bikini top and gets to work. He's very gentle but I still feel pain. I get chills. Goosebumps rise on my flesh, and I'm pretty sure my nipples are sticking out. He hits a rough spot and I pull away. We lock eyes. His never move. They're so dark.

"It's sore," I whisper, "I went hand to hand with the cop with the bullet lodged in."

"I know."

"I can take care of it." My eyes leave his. I take the clean bandages from him and finish it up. He gets out of the car and goes inside. I lean back and sigh. It hurts even worse now. I feel green.

Can you even feel a color?

I put on the shirt and go inside. He's at the deli counter ordering sandwiches. He makes it apparent that he notices I am not walking straight. I know it already. I need to adjust. I was sitting for so long.

"You want something to drink?" I question adverting his stare.

"Water."

I walk away. I should just leave him here. I can just drive away. I know he wants me to go to the hospital, but my heart is set on the beach. The sun, the sea, salt air and no one to bother me. I can just lay in the sand and turn as golden as a tater-tot.

The thought passes. I get some waters and a soda. I pay and put them in my bag. Since he is still waiting I go out to the car. I sit on the hood and look around. Not a cloud in site. The air is warm. The sun is warm against my skin. I don't think I have a fever, but I could be wrong. I feel warm, and green still. The nurses cleared me. They wanted to keep me for observation, but after the "little scene" we caused I was not sticking around. If I wanted to be a YouTube Star I would be the one behind the camera. I would be the one talking and filming what I thought people would want to watch. I don't want to be the one being filmed. I've already seen myself one too many times for my liking.

And the comments weren't all that nice either. People are harsh.

I drink some of my soda. A few trucks pull up. Drivers get out. They eye me. They eye me a lot. I don't give them the time of day. They aren't speaking English anyways. For all I know they could be talking about the soda in my hands.

Ranger comes out with the sandwiches. We sit on my hood and eat them. The truckers hang around and smoke. They don't bother us, so we don't bother them. I don't think Ranger would bother anyone anyways.

I hand him a water. "Thanks." He drinks some. "The woman behind the counter thought I was abusing you. She told me my marriage is going to end one day and I won't know what I lost because I was so self-centered."

"What was your answer?" I question.

"I told her I didn't want any pickles or yellow peppers."

"Very funny. I should play the victim card, give the old lady something more to talk about."

"And have my balls in her purse, yeah, okay."

We finish eating and get back into the car and drive the rest of the way. I have a reservation already made through my phone. I put the location into the GPS and it shows up an estimated time of twenty-two minutes."

"What did you really say to her. It must've been in Spanish, and it must've been really respectful."

"I told her you can't tell women what to do. No matter what, they're going to be hardheaded heroes who save the day, and still have time to drive you insane."

"I'm sure you said all of that. I think that's the longest line I've heard you ever say since we first met."

"Funny." His head piece is active with activity and that's the end of our chat.

While he's already multi-tasking he takes my hand in his, kisses it and holds it once again between us.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Thank you for reading. A lot of the times, in the Stephanie Plum books she goes through traumatic events, and comes out unscathed, or easily able to shake it off. I wanted to show how something could really have an effect on her, in her emotions, her mind, her heart and how she deals with it with the people around her. If that makes any sense. I hope so. Lol Enjoy. Comments and reviews are always welcome.

Disclaimer: Remains the same. Can't wait for the next book in Novemeber!

The hotel isn't anything fancy. It's on the beach so who am I to complain? The salty air fills me with delight. The sunshine warms me, even though it's a tad bit uncomfortable. I might have a fever, but I am not even going to give indication to that.

He parks in the lot and we get out with our bags. Check-in is simple. I have a queen size bed already reserved, so it'll do just fine. Even if I didn't have that size, he could sleep on the floor. He was probably used to it in another life.

"I am not sleeping on the floor," he says under his breath to me while we wait for the keycard to the room. I smile. "You never have before."

"That's the way it's going to stay," he says.

We go to the room and its very clean, and very airy. The linens are all white and the curtains are open to a large window that has a great view of the beach. People are out and about, with little children running around. Some people fly kites, and there are a few boats on the water. I can hear music in the distance. Everyone is having a great time.

And I just want to go to bed. I take the t-shirt off because the room feels too warm to my liking, and put it on the nightstand next to me. I adjust my straps and take off my flip flops. I put them atop my bag and get under the covers.

Ranger, although he's busy unpacking, stops what he is doing and looks at me.

"I thought you wanted to go lay on the beach?"

"I'm tired," I say, "lets rest here and then go to the beach."

He doesn't have a response to that, but after a beat he finishes his unpacking. He turns the temperature down in the room, and very quickly I feel the change. It feels very comfortable even under the covers.

"You can go meet beautiful girls on the beach," I side-comment to him.

I don't hear anything from him. I look over my shoulder at him and he's just looking at me.

"I'd jump on the bed, on you, but you're injured, and with fever so I'll save that for later."

"Thoughtful."

I hear the tv go on, but the volume is low. I don't know what is on. My eyes are closed and my head is throbbing. This was supposed to be a vacation, and all I want to do right now is sleep.

I wake up and the room is completely dark. I listen, but I cannot pick up any sounds. I don't feel him next to me. I can usually sense his presence nearby, and he is definitely not in the bed with me.

I sit up and turn on the lamp. The curtains are closed, but beyond that I can see torch lights, stringed lights and even a few sparklers held by people on the beach.

I pull up my bag and rummage through for my phone and charger. I plug it into the same socket the lamp is plugged in. I am ready to see the messages, texts and phone calls I missed. I don't have to respond to anything, but I can see what is going on.

While its charging up to even get to the main screen I use the bathroom. I have a fever. I can feel it now. My cheeks are red, but that could also be because of sunburn. I burn easily on a summer day.

The bandages feel gross. The wound can't be that bad. The bullet was surgically removed. The wound was stitched closed. It must be because I am sweating. I just feel gross in general. If I can break the fever, then I think I can start to get on with my life.

As if it was normal.

As if it'll ever be normal.

The chime of my phone connecting to the main screen alerts my attention away from the mirror. I don't want to look at myself anymore. I don't like what I see.

My phone beeps many dings. Still plugged in, I lay on my good side and flip through messages. I don't want to read Facebook because I know I'll be tagged in many news stories.

Lula has tried to call me numerous times. She's written some text messages asking if I was okay, where I was, and that she was going on a date with Tank again soon.

I text her back: I'm hanging in there. I went on vacation. I'll be back on Monday. We can get to work then. Stay out of trouble. ;)

She immediately texts me back: You will not start working on Monday! I will sit on you. You need to rest. We can always work on Wednesday. I'll let Connie know.

I text Connie. I call Grandma. My mother right now is such a nervous wreck. No matter how much I try to reassure her, it just isn't going to work. I'll just let her be. My Father is much more understanding—sort of.

I talk to Grandma about the vacation I am on. I leave the location vague. She knows I'll pull through. She always has confidence in me, and is ready to jump in if I should ever need it. She's helped me make captures more than once.

Ranger's missed calls, and texts messages are now in void. He put the phone in my hand even when I wanted to leave it at home. I can text him, but he might be on a date, and truth be told I don't want to ruin it.

Ranger has got to date. He is irresistible. He must date ladies on the down low, or even stem one night stands from time to time. Someone like him, even though he chooses solidity, must desire the company of women who aren't walking time bombs.

As for Morelli's missed calls, those go unanswered. I see his text message so I click it. It just says: Where are you?

I want to text back: GO TO HELL! But I refrain from doing that, and go the more "mature" route. I ignore him.

I delete all the missed calls, and all the responded messages until both lists are clean.

I don't have any night life clothes in my bag. I just put my t-shirt back on, and fluff my hair. I brush my teeth with complementary products. I put on chap stick and mascara.

My flip flops are by the door. I slip into those and grab my keycard. He might be able to get in without a key, but I'd end up sleeping in the hall.

I find Ranger standing outside on the dock. He leans on the railing looking out to sea. Many boats still float on the ocean.

I stand next to him. I rest my arms on the rail. He looks at me. He wants to smile, but it doesn't reach, anywhere.

"What?" I question.

"I didn't say anything."

"You don't have to say anything," I shrug, "but I know you want to. Just say it. Anything you want."

"Before he shot you, what was he saying to you?"

"Is that even important anymore? He's dead, there's nothing he can do anymore." The wound throbs with just the memory alone. I turn my back from the water. The restaurants are bustling. Everyone is having a great time. Everyone is dressed nice and "summery."

Tomorrow, I'll be fine with just sitting on the beach in my bikini and sunglasses.

"Want to go and eat?" I offer. If only I brought my wallet. I know he'll want to be a gentleman, but I just made a good fortune. I should be able to treat.

If only that were possible.

He nods. "Sure. Anything in mind?"

"Seafood?"

"Okay."

I hold on my hand. He takes it in his and pulls me to him gently. He puts his lips on mine and it's the softest, passionate kiss I've ever had. My lips tingle when we part. My hands shake. I hold them in fists at my sides.

"You offered your hand," he reminds me.

"I didn't know I was going to feel that way," I comment.

"Feel what way?" He questions.

My lips purse. As if he doesn't know. I shake my head, and for that I get a smile from him.

We find a seafood restaurant and order dinner. Dinner is quiet, calm and relaxing. The waves, background noise, and the people all around us in merriment can really set a mood. I'm not feeling the same way as the people, but their energy and wash over me. Maybe I need some positivity to heal faster. I know my negative mind can sometimes play tricks on me.

After dinner we walk along the ocean. There are too many children, people and dogs to call it a romantic moment. My fever also differs. My head is still up high, and my feet keep moving forward one at a time.

"Do you think they set off fireworks around here?"

"You were asleep and missed them. They were something you'd see in Jersey anyways."

"I was tired," I say. I pull my hair back into a ponytail. I pull my shoulder wrong, but I keep that to myself even though I break out in a cold sweat. I want to scream, but I won't. It'll pass eventually.

At least my hair isn't blowing every which way.

He picks up a rock and skims it across the surface. It skips five times before falling into the depths.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

I want to thank everyone who is reading this story. I love seeing your Reviews. Good or bad, thank you reading. I hope I can do you all justice with my (angst) Stephanie. Everyone has those kinds of moments, so why not her too?

Enjoy!

!

He picks up another rock and skips it across the moonlit water. I pick up a rock, try to do the same thing, but it just plops. "How do you do that?" I question.

"It's all in the wrist." He shows me how to flick my wrist. He shows me the motion of the throw. I try again, but it doesn't work.

I was using my less dominating hand anyways.

We walk along the shore. A woman on a boat in the distance shouts, and then she jumps into the water. She gets a 'whoop' of cheer from the others. Someone else jumps in as well. I can't tell whether they are female or male.

We go back to the boardwalk. A woman sits on the ground covered in veils, and jangling jewelry. Covered, except for very heavily, made up eyes she sits cross legged. A box sits in front of her with a crystal ball on it. Inside the ball, a fog, or mist swirls.

I'm usually not one for Psychics, or anything of the sort, but the crystal ball is pretty amazing looking. It may not hold any truths, or futures, or whatever they hold, but for one thing, it holds my attention longer than it should.

So does the woman's eyes. Her eyes bore into me, and not Ranger. Usually eyes lock onto Ranger, and never let go.

I'm one of them.

I step back. Ranger stands firm.

"Would you like to know your future?" the woman says with what she must assume is a Middle Eastern Accent. It isn't, but she gets points for trying.

"Sure, why not." I reach into my pocket and put money into her filled cup. I squat down.

She adjusts herself. She pulls the pants waistband up higher.

She moves her veiny hands around the crystal ball and stares into its depth. "I see destruction in your future."

Ranger coughs/chuckle. My eyes go to him. He doesn't even smirk. He thinks I didn't catch that.

"Why is that?"

"I see an explosion. I see you choking on a chicken bone. I see you twisting your ankle in four inch heels."

"Enough!" I take the money back. "Is that how you people make your money!? If you think you are going to diss me for cash, you are sadly mistaken."

"I am only telling you the truth."

"I'm sure." I walk away with Ranger. He is probably laughing-on the inside.

I need to take a pill. The pain with disappear and I'll be able to sleep.

"I heard you back there. You already read _that future_ in the car, haven't you?"

"Babe," he wraps his arm around my waist. His fingers grip firmly. "You don't need a crystal ball to see the destruction of your car. It must be written in your DNA."

"You think you are funny too." I put a hand on his. He kisses my cheek.

We get some ice-cream before going back to the room. I grab the ice bucket, fill it up and bring it back. I put an  
ice pack on my shoulder, take a pill and get into bed. The room is still cool, and the lights are dim. He gets into bed. Naked. I'm surprised he hasn't made a move on me. Somehow that makes me feel undesirable.

The psychic is wrong. Not everything in my future is going to be destruction, or awkward situations. Those situations have already happened.

…..Already happened..

…The chicken bone, the sprained ankle, the explosion!

Chris Giligan! The FTA who got away! All my "futures" were situations in which I tried to capture him. The case was put on hold when all leads disappeared.

It has to be him!

"Ranger! Ranger!" I slap him. He rolls over. "What?"

"The psychic, it's an FTA who skipped out of Trenton a couple weeks ago. Chris Giligan. It's not a woman, it's a man. The voice should've gave it away. The adjusting of his crouch should've showed me that it was man. Women adjust their boobs, not their crouch; men do that."

That gets a smirk out of him.

"I don't think he's still out there tonight since its past midnight. Let's try tomorrow. If he doesn't think I caught on, then he might be in the same spot."

"Good spot. Sometimes you have to believe that you are good at what you do."

"If only that was true. Everyone knows that I am a joke. Maybe one day I will prove them wrong. Maybe one day luck will turn into skill. Until then I'll use that luck. I'm still alive, even if I am not well."

He puts one hand on my forehead, and one on my back. "You're still burning up. You should head to a hospital just to make sure there isn't an infection."

"And miss this FTA!? I'll be fine. I'll just pop another pill. If it doesn't improve I'll go to the hospital."

"If you set fire to the sheets, I will personally drop you into a hospital bed, and then handcuff you there until you are checked out. And cleared. You will be cleared this time."

"That is the reason why I wanted to go on vacation by myself."

"When you pass out on a beach, who is going to be there?"

"I'm not going to pass out. I don't have a bullet in me, and I don't have a hole. I'll be fine. I can overcome this. Soon enough my body will be back to normal."

"Until then.. If you go to sleep, and the heat of your body increases, don't be surprised that you are in a hospital bed. Handcuffed."

I go to sleep, and unfortunately, I wake up in a hospital bed.

Handcuffed.

Shit.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Thank you to everyone who is reading! I'm glad to see so many people enjoy reading as much as I enjoy writing this story!

Right now in Connecticut we are getting crazy heat and crazy lightening! I'm so looking forward to Fall! The heat just makes me want to stay in front of my AC with the blinds drawn, which means more time for writing!

Enjoy! Comments and reviews are always welcome!

I hope the rating for my story holds, even for this chapter. I don't think it's too "inappropriate," and I don't want to offend or make anyone uncomfortable.

I know he picked me up. I know I fought him on it. I know I complained, and I know I kicked him in the chest. Unfortunately, he overpowered me, so here I am handcuffed to a hospital bed. At least, I am in my own clothes.

This is a total waste of time. I am only sweaty, red and warm because I tried to fight him and stay in bed. It's not the fever. I was fine. I am fine.

The cuff digs into my wrist. I try to break it, but it's no use. I don't have a key. I don't have anything! My bag was left in the room. My phone is still in the wall charging.

I'm lucky to have my flip flops.

My hair is down. The scrunchy is on my wrist. My wrist is cuffed to the bed. I can't pull my hair back.

The nurse has already checked me out. She's waiting on some results. I have an IV in my arm.

Ranger isn't in the room. I'd apologize for throwing stuff at him, but I don't want to. I want to sneak out of here with the hope that he is asleep in the waiting room. I'm not that lucky. He's probably outside the door.

My eyes go to the box of gloves on the floor. I can't even pick that up. I don't even know where the television remote it. I could be watching television right now, but that's not even in my favor.

I don't even feel ill anymore. I don't think I even have a fever. It was warm, so I was warm. My strength is coming back. I just need time to recuperate. I don't need to be in a hospital.

I jangle the cuff a little. I have to pee.

This is ridiculous.

"Ricardo!" I shout into the hall. I've never called him that before, and I'm only doing it to get on his nerves because he's totally on mine.

He walks into the room. His eyes stay on me; with mine staying on him. I jangle the cuff. "By now you know that I am not escaping. I have to use the bathroom. I don't have my bag, so," I shake it some more.

He comes over and opens the lock. I pin up my hair slowly. He steps back.

"Relax. I'm not going to throw anything else at you." Maybe.

He smiles. "I should've dodged that easily."

"Should've, but I would've hit a nurse."

"We don't want that now. The IV insert will bruise easy enough."

She was very rough. It's probably the end of her shift, and because she still has work to do, is probably taking it out on me.

I swing my legs over the bed and stand up slowly. I unhook the bag and go into the bathroom. I take care of business. I look into the mirror. I have huge brown bags under my eyes. My lip is swollen and dry. I need chap stick.

My shoulder is wrapped in fresh bandages. I don't feel any pain from that since I took another pain pill. I don't want to give it the chance to start to hurt. That'll just be too much.

The side of my neck is bruised, as well as my chest. I think I lost a lot blood. Lula said that she was covered in my blood, and she didn't like it one bit. I can't remember what she was saying to me, but she was saying a lot. She handled business when I couldn't. She has skills that need to be practiced and developed. She always under estimates herself.

I do the same.

I leave the bathroom and sit back on the bed. Ranger hooks the bag up. He sits next to me. The handcuffs are still in his hand. He thinks I'll run.

When I find out the results, only then will I run. Maybe, I'll handcuff him to the bed and get a head start.

"Talk," I say to him.

"What do you want me to say?"

"Anything! Something about this! Why is this different than any other time?"

"You're the only one that figured out that a Trenton cop was in fact the culprit."

"No! With me!" I grit my teeth to keep from screaming at him. The beeping of the machines annoys me.

My answer is cut off, or not even thought of because the nurse comes into the room. Both our attentions are diverted to her.

"You were very dehydrated. You're free to go, but I would like to keep you for an extra hour to hydrate you some more with the IV."

My anger boils up inside. I knew it. I knew I could've just stayed in bed and drank more water. He had nothing to worry about, and all the wasted effort was just that, wasted!

"Okay," I say calmly. I turn my body and bring my feet up onto the bed. I lean back and rest against the back completely. She hands me the remote and leaves the room.

I turn on the televison. I flip to the channel that plays night sitcoms. My favorite one is on, and it's a great episode.

He sits next to me. It isn't comfortable for him because it's a tight squeeze.

But he isn't going to move. Or leave.

He looks at me. My eyes stay on the television. He swallows. I bet whatever he wanted to say went right down his throat as well.

At this point, I don't want to know. At another point I'd want all the answers, but this isn't it. I don't want to be here, but if she wants me to hydrate some more then I will.

I'm already here anyways.

I will not give up this job. There are days, many, that I really want to, but I've gotten this far, so I might as well stick it out.

No matter what anybody says.

Especially Morelli. He did not have to start on me in the hospital. He did not have to get me going as well. He did not have to give me an ultimatum: in front of many people, right after my surgery, when I was still drugged up, and half way delirious.

It wasn't fair.

Ugh! I just want to wrap my hands around his neck and squeeze.

I want to go back to the hotel room. I need to figure out what I am going to do about my FTA. I need to catch him. If anything is going to come of this little vacation, then its going to be me catching him and collecting the money. I could buy Rex a brand new cage, and even get him a tube-gym.

It would be a treat for the both of us.

My eyes meet his. He smiles as if he has been reading my mind the whole time.

I really hope he can't.

"You shouldn't be smiling. I want to cuff you so bad, stick a needle in your arm and put you in a gown with your ass hanging out."

So glad I got to keep my own clothes on. Still.

His arm goes around my waist. He kisses up my neck and up to my mouth. He says, "Private room or not, if you want to see my ass all you have you do is ask. I'll show you mine if you show me yours." His lips go back to mine, and a second later he's on top of me. He holds his own weight, and his hands on my back bring me closer.

Suddenly an old couple is rushed into the room. The curtain is closed around us. Rapid Spanish comes from the woman's mouth. We listen. Of course, I don't know what she is saying, but Ranger does. He gets off of me. He shakes his head. He wants to laugh. He wants to scream. He wants to shove the bed out the window.

"Translate, before I kill you!" I scream. I put the blanket to my bloody arm. In all the action he ripped the IV right out of my arm.

"I guess I have a lot to make up to you, but not as much as that woman does. Apparently she got on top and broke his dick."

I get out of bed and move the curtain enough to peak out.

The woman is bigger than Lula, and she didn't even think to put on a shirt before going to the hospital.

Ranger looks out above me. He moves back into the "room." He hunches over. I look at him more closely. He straightens up tall and lets out the biggest laugh I've ever heard come from him.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 5

Thank you to everyone who continues to read my story. I love seeing the reviews and comments. I will try to clear everything up in further chapters.

Enjoy! Reviews and comments are always welcomed.

Connecticut's weather forecast: Still oppressive heat with severe thunderstorms at sunset. Frequent lightning, in your face thunder and winds so strong you don't need Fall to clear a tree.

!22!22!

We are stuck in the hospital for another hour and a half. I'm so tired and cold from the air conditioning. The Spanish couple is moved to another room on a different floor. She is still going on and on in Spanish to him while he says no word at all. I don't think he can get anything out, and if he does it might be a few octaves too high.

I'm starving, and I just want to be somewhere without background noise. Beep. Beep. Beep. Paging Dr. Vincor.

We leave and go to a diner. I am "cleared" to leave. It's early morning. Too early to be up. We eat breakfast before going back to the room. We say next to nothing at all.

In the room I get into bed and unplug my phone out of the wall. I check my messages, and send Connie a message to send me the information on Chris Giligan.

I don't send any messages out because it's too early in the morning. I don't want anyone to think something is wrong.

Ranger does a few things on his phone and then gets into bed. I lay on his chest, and he puts the blanket on us.

"Now be gentle," I whisper.

He doesn't say anything. One arm holds on to me securely, and the other one runs through my hair, down my neck, my back and then back again. His hand lingers down my shirt, and I have the urge to swat him away, but I don't. I don't want him to stop, but I'd rather have him 'cop a feel' instead of trying to read my temperature.

!22!22!2!

At a more reasonable hour I wake up to a cloud covered sky. A light rain is falling. From a distance it doesn't look to be lively outside. I hope people around here still have to make money, otherwise I'm going to lose out on this FTA.

Ranger is in the shower. As much as it is tempting to join him, I don't need another accident on my wounds.

Even that is hard for me to say, because the temptation is strong. I grit my teeth and put a fresh t-shirt and bra on. I pin up my hair and grab my bag. I have my pepper spray, Ranger's cuffs; I'm considering them a gift, and my phone. This shouldn't be long. If he's still dressed as a woman I'm counting on him getting caught up in all the clothes and falling over his very own feet. I'd enjoy the show because of recently I haven't had much to laugh at and enjoy.

That would put a smile on my face. It would also be a very funny YouTube Video. It would get one-thousand thumbs up.

I'm out the door before he can get out of the shower. This is my FTA, and I am going to catch him. I am going to return him into the system, get my money and go from there.

I don't have a hooded shirt so I'm left with the tapping of drops on my head, and spotting my shirt. It feels kind of nice. My hair isn't frizzing out so that must mean the humidity is down.

Some people have breakfast outside under the covering of giant umbrellas. I head down the boardwalk hoping he is there, and sure enough I see him sitting on the ground with a large umbrella, and still very much dressed as a woman. His make-up is done, and his vails cover most.

The crystal ball is still a fascinating enigma. I see pretty colors; I wonder what "real" tellers see. Is there anything to see? Or are they just making it up as they go along?

I take a deep breath and square my shoulder. Ok. I can do this. I walk over to him. He is once again adjusting himself. He sees me and his (her) smile forms.

"Have you come back for more? I can read more into your unfortunate future."

"I think you may need to read into your own future, Chris Giligan."

His eyes grow big.

"I'll admit that it took me a while, but here we are now. You missed your court appearance so I'm going to have to take you in."

"My future does not show that." He picks up the ball and throws it at me. I dodge. The ball drops to the ground and breaks. "Sparkly" water spills out.

And a slime like substance.

He takes off. I follow after as quick as I can. Luck be on my side; he gets jumbled up in his clothes. I sit on him. He gets me with his arm, slams me off of him and onto the ground. I see stars as pain shoots through my shoulder. Blindly I reach out and elbow him in the nose. Hard.

He screams out and rolls away from me. My vision rights itself and I see blood spurting from his nose, down his arms and onto the ground.

Yes!

While he tries to get a grip I cuff him and shove his face into the ground. "This time you are not getting away."

"Bitch! You broke my nose! Assault! Assault!" He starts shouting. He starts thrashing. I sit on him and call the cops.

No one makes a move to come over here and see what's going on. Do people on Connecticut see this much too often? If this were Jersey there'd be a crowd of on lookers.

"Good job, Babe."

My eyes go to Ranger. He sits on the rail. He comes over. Giligan looks up at him and that ends his thrashing.

I give a nod. I feel like if I start talking I am going to barf. I hit the ground pretty hard, and it still hasn't stopped throbbing yet.

He is arrested and booked. I get my body receipt. I throw up. Luckily for me it's not on anyone's shoes.

The crappy weather of the late morning clears up. The sky loses all its clouds and the world becomes alive and once again a happy place to live at.

I can finally lay on the beach. I put on my bathing suit and he does as well. We go down to the beach and plant ourselves in the sand.

"Is this the first vacation you've ever taken?"

"By what standard?"

"Mine."

"No, I do go on vacation sometimes."

I smile. "Do you want some sunblock? You don't want to look like a lobster." I know I will look like a lobster regardless of what I do.

"You do mine, I'll do yours."

"Okay." I sit up and put it on his back, his neck, his chest and face. He shines in the sun. His perfect body reflects the right amount of light. I want to keep my hands on him. I really do, but I don't.

He does mine much more lightly. I guess he thinks I'm much too sensitive. I am, but I know if he rubbed even the slightest bit harder it'll still feel just as good.

"I'm not going to break," I say to him.

"How do I know that?" He questions.

"Do you really want to know what he said?"

"That doesn't answer my question, but yes."

"He told me that he was going to shoot me in the heart. He told me he didn't have a heart, and that I shouldn't have one either. Without a heart he said he could wait with shooting mine, and that I should watch him kill everyone I love. He said he watched my mother go to the bakery with my grandmother and all he could think was," my mouth stops. I quickly add in, with a shrug, "you know."

"You still have your heart," he says, "and so does everyone else. He wouldn't've had a chance to get near either one of them. Both of them are tough, especially that grandma of yours."

I smile. I nod. "I know, but there was so much going on. Both men were poor excuses for human beings. Both committed the crimes, regardless of who was criminal and who was puppet."

"When did it become a point that you knew it wasn't Freedmon you were supposed to be after, but Adamski?"

I scoop sand into my hand and let it run through my fingers. The sand is too perfect words. Warm and grainy, I can exfoliate without any kind of mess.

"Nervous people show many kinds of signs. One thing about Freedmon, he didn't blink as much as he should. Plus, he kept looking around for signs on what to do and when to do it. When you're the "mastermind" you do the job without that fear, and without that hesitation."

"And now the real reason?" He questions.

I frown.


End file.
